Ally walked into the career counselor’s office with a sigh, after the murders last week, she didn’t feel like listening to a lecture from anyone, let alone a woman who she had spent at most only a few hours with during the last couple years to discuss her “future.”


    “Allison, welcome, you can shut the door and have a seat,” said an older woman with her hair in a tight bun, greyed with age yet still clearly brunette. “How have you been?”


    “Fine,” Ally said unenthusiastically.


    “Are you sure? Everyone is in mourning right now, it’s fine if you need to speak to a grief counselor.”


    “I’m fine,” Ally said a little more forcefully, though without any anger. She wasn’t mad or irritated. Oddly, she didn’t feel much of anything about the deaths of the three football players. It was like floating in a void, she felt disconnected from it. From everything. It was miserable.


    “Alright. Will you be coming to the memorial service tonight?”


    “Yeah,” Ally replied, the whole school would be there. She didn’t know the three players well, but the survivor, Elijah, she had shared a couple classes with. He hadn’t returned to school since the attack, and the rumor was his parents were moving far away. Whether it was to try and move on from the terrible attack, or to gain some distance from the killer who was still at large, was unsure. Probably both, and so much more.


    There was a moment of awkward silence, before the counselor cleared her voice and said, “Well, I guess we need to do our best to carry on as normal. This meeting was to discuss your future options. Right now, I have your grades pulled up, and I can see that your first two years you maintained a 3.21 grade point average, with you having good grades especially in social studies.”


    “This year though you’ve been struggling, and it looks like you got a bad grade on your first major project, is that correct?”


    Ally didn’t bother looking at the woman across from her, instead fixating her eyes on her name plate, which in flowery print declared her name as Mrs. Harris. “Yeah,” she replied to the lady’s inquiry.”


    “I see. I’ve also heard from your teachers that you haven’t been turning in assignments for the past two weeks, is that true?” Ally shrugged. “Ally, I’m trying to help you, please talk to me.”


    “I haven’t been turning in my assignments.”


    “I see. May I ask why?”


    Ally shrugged again. How did she explain that she had tried her best on the history project, and yet despite that had gotten the D-. That her classes had become harder and harder, and her grades have been slipping all semester, despite her effort. That every low grade she brought home left her dreading the look of disappointment in her mother’s eyes. She knew they wouldn’t understand. Why bother when your best wasn’t good enough? Why try when you know you’ll fail. It was all such a waste of effort. And then there was that vivid dream, which gnawed at her head, seemingly more real than reality had ever felt, yet so surreal that it was insane to spend as much time as she had thinking about it.


    “Ally!”


    “I’m listening,” Ally slouched in her seat and stared at her tennis shoes and her black leggings. She had on an oversized green hoodie that made her look smaller than she already felt.


    Mrs. Harris sighed, “Listen, these midsemester meetings are supposed to help you determine what you want to do for the future. Do you want to get into a university?”


    Ally shrugged again. Mrs. Harris pushed, “What about a technical school, or military. Have you looked at any of those options?”


    “No.”


    “Well, where do you see yourself in two years?”


    “I don’t know?”


    “Ally, please.”


    “I don’t know, okay. I haven’t really thought about it.”


    “That’s what these meetings are for. Try to put in some effort, or I can’t help you.” Mrs. Harris didn’t understand. She didn’t know how meaningless effort was when it couldn’t change the outcome. Ally’s father had been murdered, and now her classmates were next. The three boys had such bright futures, according to everyone, and yet before death it meant nothing. No one knew what the next day could bring, how finite it all was. Ally had the misfortune of having seen glimpses of that truth, one time too many.


    Instead of saying that, Ally shrugged again.


    Mrs. Harris sighed and drummed her fingers once before pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to Ally. “Fine. Here’s what we’ll do. I want you to write down three strengths you have, and three interests you have. It can be anything, hobbies, things you would like to try, whatever. Bring that back next week, and you and I can brainstorm some ideas next week, at the same time. Can you do that for me, Allison?”


    Ally wanted to shrug but knew it wouldn’t bring an end to the conversation. “Sure.”


    “Thank you. I’ll see you next week Allison.”


    The day flew by like a blur, and soon Ally arrived home and fell into her bed with an exhausted groan. A second later, Lily jumped on the bed and ran over to Ally’s face and started licking her on the mouth. She laughed, “Okay, okay, I get it, let’s go outside.”


    She walked out the door, and as usual Lily immediately did her business before triumphantly returning to the porch, and Ally held the door open as the dog ran in. Ally bent down and patted the dog, who ran to the living room ready to watch the news wither her girl. “Not today, Lily. I’ve got to get ready.”


    She walked to her bedroom and the pup followed her quizzically as she opened her closet and ran through looking for something black. It couldn’t be cute, or revealing, this was a morbid affair. Unfortunately, she didn’t have any appropriate clothing, and she knew her mom didn’t have the money to afford new clothing. Still, she was going to at least show her respect.


    She settled on a black blouse with some matching slacks that her mom had gotten her for when she would put in for her first interview. Mary had told her she would be allowed to get a job over the next summer, but during the school year wanted her to focus solely on getting good grades. She had some black heels to match and went to the bathroom to fix up her hair and makeup. She normally did her makeup so she could feel confident and beautiful, but tonight wasn’t for her. She would make herself look beautiful and stoic. Black mascara, pale foundation and blush, dark red lipstick, and eyeshadow gave her a somber appearance, and while it took a solid hour, she was confident she would be the perfect image of mourning. More importantly, she wouldn’t stand out. Tonight, was for Tyler, Josh, and James.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Mary got home sometime while Ally was preparing and headed to her own bathroom to prep as well. Once they were both ready, they met in the entranceway. They both wore black, with Mary clad in a funeral dress, “Are you ready, Ally?”


    “Yeah.”


    They went out to their old Volkswagen and headed out. Ten minutes they arrived at the high school, where a procession of ebony-clad people was silently headed towards the football field. Mary parked the vehicle, and the two joined them as they headed to the field, where a memorial had been erected in memory of the boys. Pictures of them were adorned with flowers and wreaths, some with their friends, recent and old, smiling, and full of life. If one were to focus on the pictures though, there was the twinge of realization that there could never be another photo taken of them. Their smiles had been forever stolen away by a force cruel as fate.


    Over the next thirty minutes more and more people gathered, and there were many tears in the eyes of the youth gathered, many of whom were suddenly face to face with the mortality of the human condition that they had become accustomed to being ignorant of. But for Ally, this was too familiar a scene. One she had seen six years ago, but with much fewer people. When her father, grandfather, and uncle died, only close family had cared.


    Some cried from grief, some foolish girls cried for sympathy, lacking the self-awareness to realize that tonight was for those most affected. It wouldn’t change anything though. Tonight, they would mourn. Tomorrow they would continue living as if nothing happened.


    The masked beast sat upon the scoreboard, its long fur defying gravity gracefully as it looked blindly at the masses while a small gathering of hidden cats stared at the gathered humans, eyes glowing blue. Its long tail swished over the scoreboard, and its equally long neck allowed it to crane high and feel the breeze in the air. Despite its prominent positioning, not a soul seemed to notice it, as it always was and had been.


    “The children mourn, and I shed tears with them as three souls are consumed by the corrupted blessing,” the creature mused. Its voice cracked as a sob shook it, and it dipped its mask in mourning as its snow-white fur became as dark as the night. It sat and listened as the parents gave thanks to those who arrived, as the priest led them in prayer, and the principle gave a speech on the value of life.


    It was sorrowful, and yet the beast knew it was something of beauty. Death gave life meaning, no matter how unjust. Still, things could not continue as they had been, and it struggled to recall how the blessing had come to be granted and corrupted. There had been a purpose, she did not make mistakes, but things were cloudy. She was not omnipotent. She was not omniscient. She was no goddess, even when there were those who had attempted to worship her.


    The cats’ eyes glinted as the first candle was lit, having been passed around during the speech. The priest had lit his and used his to light the next. The cool autumn night had claimed the evening, and as the light passed, candle to candle, the cats stared intensely at the blossoming light. Soon the football field was brilliantly asunder with the soft warm glow of candles, and the beast tossed its head back to howl a song.


    It sang of life cut short, of the happiness their souls had felt, of the joy their parents had felt when beholding them as babes on the first day of their lives. It sang of their lost futures, of their robbed potential. It sang of the beauty of their life. It sang of how thanks to their deaths, everyone there would be forever affected by their journey’s end.


    A single pair of eyes failed to stare at the memorial or at the ground, as most of the other onlookers did. It stared instead at an incredible view, one that only she was witness to. Ally stared at the masked beast as its siren song rang out. It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard, and it pierced her down to the bone, like ice. Yet it didn’t hurt, instead making her feel safe and comforted. It was a voice of empathy, of sorrow, and understanding. Ally didn’t even have the capacity to think of anything else, unable to realize the impossibility of image before her. She couldn’t ponder anything, and instead a wave of grief she hadn’t felt since her father shook her, brought upon by the lonesome notes.


    Tears poured from her unblinking eyes as she found herself fathoming the tragedy and loss of her classmates. She felt their parents’ sorrow, the sadness and pain of friends and girlfriends, the harrowing hollowness that death left behind.


    Josh Gibson had been a part of the choir, an angelic voice his mother had treasured that she would never hear again. He had left behind a little sister, who had always felt safe thanks to him. Now who would keep her safe? His father had been proud and would brag at work to his friends of his son’s successes both in and out of the classroom, no matter how small. Now he would never feel the swell of pride again, as all that swelled now were sobs.


    Tyler Scott had left behind a girlfriend, his childhood friend of ten years that he had grown up with. They had fallen in love, truly and deeply. Now she would never feel his touch again, the taste of his lips, the tender wraps of his arms. His parents had divorced, but now held onto each other in shared grief, as they faced the coldness of despair together.


    James Davidson’s abusive father, an alcoholic loser, had not had a drop since the passing of his son. How could he? He knew how undeserving he was, how worthless he had been to his son. He had never told James he loved him, something he had refused to accept after the death of his wife at childbirth. A short lifetime of regrets is all he had to remember his son, and now he could never make amends. Now he could never be the man his son had deserved. James’s girlfriend had been a cheerleader and had listened to him reveal his soul as he opened up to her about his hardship. She had grown up in an idealistic home and had done what she could to help him. Her father had embraced James when he cried and told him he would always be welcome in their home, proving to be a better father figure than James’s dad had ever been. Now both men stood side by side, candles in hand crying.


    How Ally knew this, she didn’t know. No, it wasn’t that she knew this, it was that the masked majesty did, and its song told the story of the end of their life. Of how it affected every soul there. Ally felt a wave of nausea and lightheadedness pass through her, and she didn’t even notice as she collapsed on the ground as her mind faded into darkness.


    She found herself on the field, now covered in a thing layer of hoarfrost. She picked herself up and looked around at the abandoned field, which was deserted except for the memorial, which had blue fire flickering softly on each of its candles.


    There was a meow, and she looked down to see a Calico cat before her with those familiar azure eyes. A voice rumbled behind her, a powerful voice, even if it sounded like a little girl, “Good evening, child. We meet again.”


    Ally turned around slowly to behold the great beast, which sat calmly behind her, its neck craning so that the head could stare into the moonlit night. “What happened?”


    “I believe you saw me again.”


    Ally hesitated, and then said, “You were real though, it wasn’t a dream!”


    “It wasn’t a dream last time, and it isn’t now, child.”


    Ally looked around, and then asked, “Where am I?”


    “My avatars realized you were being overwhelmed by my song, so I brought you to my realm to protect your mind.”


    “Your avatars?”


    “Yes.” Suddenly hundreds of cats stepped out of the darkness and into the flickering candlelight, each with those gorgeous eyes staring intensely at Ally.


    “These cats?”


    “Not quite, child. All cats. All dogs. All serve as my avatars, all serve me, or rather, are me. And I serve them, or rather are them.”


    “I don’t understand,” Ally said as the Calico cat rubbed against her leg.


    “There is nothing to understand. It is how it is.”


    Ally looked down and pet the cat, and then mused out loud, “Just like death.”


    “And just like life. Tell me child, do you feel better now?”


    “I do. Why can I see you when no one else can?”


    Ally suddenly opened her eyes as she found herself with the athletic trainer from the school looking over her. She sat up, having been placed on the ground and the man told her, “Don’t move, we have an ambulance on its way now.”


    She stared around at the crowd of people staring at her, mumbling, and whispering to each other as their eyes bore into hers. In the distance, she thought she saw a cat, electrifying eyes wide, before it turned away into the darkness.